


Mary

by Lord_Risley



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Story, F/M, Gen, One Shot, POV Mary Morstan, Sneaky bitch, back story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:32:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3215954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_Risley/pseuds/Lord_Risley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had done everything she could to save what truly mattered to her, all that was left was to wait</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mary

**Author's Note:**

> Written for /the/ Mary

It was a gamble. It was the biggest gamble of her life. Sure, She had risked her to life to do things that would surely seem immoral to those who were quick to judge, those whose view of the world they occupied was so very narrow and limited to the mundane. She herself had no such qualms about her chosen profession. It would be particularly tiresome to have to philosophise on morality and the ethics of a situation when you chose to kill for a living, and there was the important point to anyone who cared to notice. She chose. Her life was not a tragic tale of abuse and hardship. She chose her profession because she was good at what she did. She was better than good, she was the best. 

It had come as nothing more than a mild surprise when her secret had been revealed to the man she now loved. The moment she had met Sherlock she knew that John had not been exaggerating in the tales he regaled her with, If anything he had toned it down a bit, made Sherlock seem more...normal. She had liked him instantly and rather shrewdly thought the feeling was likely to be mutual. They were similar to each other in so many ways, Both playing a part to cover who they were and to make an attempt to fit into what people needed to see in their lives...Ordinary. It was obvious she was much more adept at this than Sherlock was, he seemed to make almost no effort at all, seemingly happy to live an isolated existence away from the annoyances of dull people. She was not so short sighted. To make yourself blend in, to make people like you, You must act the part and she did it well.  
Sherlock had seen through her disguise but it had taken time and she was immensely proud of that. He too had been blindsided by her and if she could fool Sherlock Holmes...The rest of the world didn't stand a chance.  
The only problem had been that it had begun to suit her. She had liked John from their first meeting. Her initial interest and affection were all real. She may have spent a lifetime learning to protect herself and leave no clues to things that /must/ stay hidden but she had never lied to John about her feelings. The longer they had been together, the more she could see a possibility for a new life, a new start. It wasn't an escape or salvation...It was love.

The memory stick had been a last ditch, desperate attempt to save herself. She had seen a whole new possibility in life, someone else that she wanted to be, or try to be at least, and she wasn't going to give that up without a fight. She had twirled the memory stick in her hands to cover a moment of hesitancy in her decision. There was no going back after this and it had to work. She had passed over the small stick and that was it.

The waiting had been unexpected. She had fully expected to react in volatile manner. The memory stick was either to be loaded there and then or hurled into the fire there and then. For months she had waited patiently, She was good at that. The silence had been uncomfortable but each day that passed had just added to another day that the memory stick was not loaded. Days had become weeks which had added up to months and now here she stood, her husband before her, clutching the memory stick that could make or destroy her new chosen life.

A cold, rather brutal and calculating risk had been taken and now it was time to see if she would win yet again. 

Johns hand had moved and the stick had fallen, She watched it until the plastic had started to bubble and melt, the metal becoming burnt and scarred. The emotion burst forth from her, months of pent up, but totally necessary, stoic behaviour crumbling around her. He loved her. He truly loved her and it was enough to trust in the person she was now, not caring about who she had been, what she'd been.

She wept uncontrollably, clinging to John, tears smudging her face and pooling on his shoulder. 

She had won. A cheap, plastic, memory stick that was completely blank had saved her. She had won.


End file.
